


Immersion

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Acting, Character Death Fix, Comfort, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mondo hasn’t totally pulled himself together when the lights cut to black, although he can hear Ishimaru getting to his feet and shuffling nearly-silently offstage." Rehearsal and live performances are very different things, as Mondo and Ishimaru both discover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immersion

Mondo likes watching from backstage. He has to be careful not to be seen -- it won’t do to have a victim from earlier in the play seen peering around the edge of the curtains -- but he is utterly convinced that Ishimaru is the greatest actor on the stage, and the other boy consistently steps his performance up a notch after the point when Mondo himself is no longer an active participant. The advantage to this is that he can watch without trying to remember his own lines, without trying to fight back the soft pride that he  _knows_  sweeps over his face; the disadvantage, he realizes, comes after.

It’s not a problem during rehearsal. Ishimaru comes back pale and a little shaky, but he can manage a smile and a laugh when Mondo teases him about his future in acting, and they go home or maybe out to ice cream and everything is fine. It’s during the first real performance, when Mondo is watching with delayed stage-fright coursing through his veins, that he realizes Ishimaru is stepping up far beyond anything he’s ever seen the other boy manage before. He’s not just sobbing; he’s wailing himself hoarse, screaming with such raw pain in his voice that the entire audience goes hushed and still in breathless empathy for the pain all over his face. It’s hard to watch, agonizing even though Mondo  _knows_  it’s all an act, knows that this reaction is for the loss of  _him_  and he’s obviously fine. He hasn’t totally adjusted when the murder comes; his breath catches at how utterly still Ishimaru is on stage, unmoving and smeared with fake blood while the rest of the remaining cast flutter around him.

He hasn’t totally pulled himself together when the lights cut to black, although he can hear Ishimaru getting to his feet and shuffling nearly-silently offstage. So he knows to reach out, extend one hand to where the other boy will be, and Ishimaru walks right into his arm just as the lights come back up on Naegi.

Naegi starts in on his monologue, but Mondo’s not listening anymore; he’s grabbing at Ishimaru’s shoulder, turning the other boy around to face him so he can offer the silent grin of approval that is acceptable backstage. But something’s wrong; Ishimaru is turning but his eyes are wide and unfocused, and when he blinks up at Mondo he startles backwards as if he’s seen a ghost.

“Hey.” Mondo’s smile evaporates, his hold goes from affectionate to steadying. “Kyoudai. You okay?” He’s trying to speak in an undertone, but Ishimaru just keeps staring at him, his eyes wide and shocked and unblinking, and it’s around the point that they start to overflow that Mondo decides they need to get out of the wings and to the backstage proper.

Ishimaru doesn’t fight. He lets himself be pushed along, stumbles forward like he’s a robot instead of a person, but those tears are pouring down his face with no sign of stopping and his skin is whiter than even powder should make it and Mondo doesn’t know what’s  _wrong_  and he can’t ask until they’re through the door to the back room.

It seems to take forever, but it’s less than a minute before the latch is clicking behind them. Leon and Maizono are chatting in the corner, but Mondo doesn’t even have to shoo them out; they take one look at Ishimaru’s face and scramble to their feet, exiting without so much as a word of farewell before they’re departing out the other door. That’s fine, Mondo doesn’t even care right now.

“Kiyotaka.” Ishimaru is just as willing to be turned as he was to move. He’s still not blinking, still staring at Mondo like he’s never seen him before. “Hey.  _Kyoudai_.” Usually that’s enough to get  _some_  kind of response, and it does, in a manner of speaking. Ishimaru blinks, shuts his mouth...and then his entire expression crumples into agony. He throws himself forward against Mondo’s jacket, his hands come up to make fists of the fabric across the other boy’s shoulders, and his stalled breathing comes back in the form of wracking sobs. Mondo can feel the motion shaking through the other boy’s shoulders when he pulls Ishimaru in against him; he’s sobbing so loudly Mondo’s not sure even the separate room they’re in will be enough to muffle the sound from the audience.

“ _Kyoudai_ ,” Ishimaru gasps into his jacket. “I...I…”

Mondo forces a laugh. It sounds strained and desperate, but it is approximately a laugh. “What, did you convince yourself I was actually dead?”

The hands at his shoulders pull tighter, trying to bridge a gap that doesn’t exist between them. Ishimaru doesn’t speak but Mondo’s laughter, even forced, dies in his throat.

“Oh.” He brings one hand up to the back of Ishimaru’s head to steady the other boy against him. “You idiot.”

“I knew you w-weren’t,” Ishimaru sobs, the sound shattered apart in his throat. “But I-I was trying to--to immerse myself and--”

“You’re still using words that big, you’ll be fine,” Mondo cuts him off, but he’s steering Ishimaru backwards anyway, towards the couch against the back of the wall. “For someone so smart you’re really dumb, y’know?”

Ishimaru laughs, or tries to laugh. It starts off weak and ends as another sob, but that’s okay, Mondo’s got him at the couch and the other boy is willing to let himself be lowered down until he’s sitting, as long as Mondo comes with him. The other boy has no intention of leaving -- they don’t have to be back out until curtain call anyway -- so he settles himself on the couch next to Ishimaru, and there’s no one there to see so he pulls the other boy around to his lap for the moment.

That helps, at least a little. Ishimaru tucks his head in against Mondo’s neck, and he doesn’t stop crying but the violence of his sobbing fades off until there’s just the trickle of wet against Mondo’s neck and the occasional hiccuping inhale to say Ishimaru is still crying.

“Ssh,” Mondo soothes. It’s not his forte, comfort, but he knows how to handle Ishimaru at least, and when he runs his hand up over the other boy’s back he can feel the tension bleed out of him in the wake of the contact. “Hey, it’s okay, right?” When he turns his head his mouth lands somewhere between Ishimaru’s eye and his cheek so he kisses that, figuring that the contact is better than bothering to get a better angle on the other boy’s mouth or similar. “I’m here, yeah? I’m not going anywhere, I’m fine, you’re fine, we’re both fine.”

Ishimaru nods, jerky but clear, against Mondo’s shoulder, and when the other boy keeps rubbing his back he goes limp if shaky against Mondo’s chest. It’s not uncomfortable, really; Mondo can’t quite admit that he’s  _charmed_  by his boyfriend’s overreaction, but that’s pretty damn close to what he’s feeling when he sighs, “Are you going to do this every night?”

Ishimaru does laugh, then, a sincere laugh even if it’s wet and choking, and Mondo grins and turns his head sideways so he can feel the pulse of blood warm and alive under Ishimaru’s skin.

After all, Ishimaru’s not the only one who needs reassurance.


End file.
